


drabbles

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [172]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sorting (Harry Potter), Brothers, Character Death, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Conspiracy, Dark, F/M, Family Drama, Fatherhood, Fix-It, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Growing Up, HP: Epilogue Compliant, Hogwarts House Sorting, Hufflepuff Harry, Identity Issues, Life Lessons, M/M, Master of Death, Not Epilogue Compliant, Past Child Abuse, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Shapeshifting, Slytherin Harry Potter, Survivor Guilt, Tattoos, Walkabout
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:37:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 8,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of my Harry Potter fics shorter than 1000 words have been moved here.  Each chapter has its own warnings.</p><p>Also: some of my never-before-posted-to-A03 drabbles are being added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the power the dark lord knows not (is not love)

**Author's Note:**

> Title: the power the dark lord knows not (is not love)  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 335  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Harry Potter, Harry, Dumbledore's plan failed; when Harry arrived at Hogwarts he was not the polite and friendly little boy that everyone expected him to be.

Harry Potter is a good boy, thank you very much. He's always reading, always smiling, always ready to help. 

(is he? are you sure? those books aren't harmless, and neither are his eyes (killing-green, oh my), and his smile - ooh, such a shivery thing, that smile of his)

He's Sorted into Ravenclaw, which wasn't part of the plan, but he's at the top of his class, and all of his teachers except Snape adore him. And even Snape can't fault his dedication to his studies, no matter how he mutters about arrogance and fathers.

First, second, third, fourth, fifth - Harry Potter studies, focuses on learning, and amasses an army of fellow students loyal to him. Dumbledore watches history repeat itself but doesn't _see_ it. Harry Potter doesn't try to rescue the stone, doesn't find the Chamber of Secrets, doesn't follow a Gryffindor’s rat into a tree, doesn't let himself be forced into a tournament (there are always loopholes, if one knows where to look), and doesn't let himself be tricked. 

In sixth year, there is no Dark Lord rising from his own ashes. 

In sixth year, the headmaster calls Harry into his office and says, "It's time you learned about the enemy, my boy," and Harry Potter, smiling (killing-green eyes), asks, "Which enemy is that, sir?"

The whole world is Harry Potter's enemy, even those who would die for him. 

Because, once upon a time, there was a little boy sobbing for his mother, and all he got was slaps, and kicks, and no food, and a monster of cousin that everyone thought was so grand. 

Harry Potter's secret isn't _love_ , you foolish old man with your twinkling eyes. He doesn't even know the meaning of the word.

"Voldemort, Harry," the headmaster says, peering at Harry over his spectacles, something tickling at the back of his mind.

“Oh,” Harry says, still smiling. “I thought you meant yourself.” 

Harry Potter is a good boy, and he’ll be a great man. He’s got it all planned out.


	2. slow to wake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: slow to wake  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Ursula K. Le Guin  
> Warnings: AU for Half-Blood Prince  
> Rating: PG  
> Pairings: none  
> Wordcount: 380  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Harry Potter, Draco (+/any), deny thy father and refuse thy name (Romeo and Juliet)  
> Note: The title is from this quote -- _The hunger of a dragon is slow to wake, but hard to sate._

Father has told him all his life that Malfoys bow to no one. 

Why, then, does Father grovel to this mad lord, this dark lord, this lord once beaten by an infant? 

Father has told him all his life that Malfoys will rule when the old days return. 

Why, then, does Father listen to this mad lord who kills his own as easily as he kills the enemy? 

Father has told him all his life that the world is his for the taking.

Why, then, has Father given him to one who flies from death? (Maybe the name was meant to be strong -- to him, though, it stinks of fear, of one frightened and trying vainly to hide it.)

Father has told him so many things, and tomorrow, Draco will be marked like his father. 

No. 

Malfoys are not minions. Malfoys do not follow. This path of Father's will lead to the ruin of the Malfoys -- and, possibly, to their entire society. 

What, then, can one boy do? He’s yet to even finish schooling. He has nothing outside of the Malfoys. Outside of the Malfoys, he _is_ nothing. 

No. 

He is Draco. He must, then, be as strong as a dragon, as resilient. No more hiding behind the mask of the perfect son, the sniveling prince of Slytherin. (If only he had known, then, what mad lord his father worshipped. Would he still have mirrored his father in everything?)

He tells no one, hints to nobody at the Manor of his plans. He walks to the edge of the wards and summons the Knight Bus. At Gringotts, he withdraws enough galleons to cover a year’s tuition at Hogwarts; at Wiseacre's, he buys a mokeskin pouch and transfers the galleons to it. He casts a glamour on himself before buying a handful of used wands from a hag, and then he leaves his Ollivander’s wand on the front stoop of a closed shop. 

The world is large. Surely it is large enough to find a place for himself, away from the Malfoys’ mad lord? He pauses just outside the Leaky Cauldron, at the enormity of this choice—once made, there could be no going back. 

After a moment, he straightens his spine, lifts his chin. Dragons bow to no one.


	3. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight  
> Fandom: Harry Potter  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” by Dylan Thomas.  
> Warnings: spoilers for Deathly Hollows  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 640  
> Point of view: third

_Come now, little brother—what’re you lookin’ for? ‘s’not me, is it? I’m still there, right beside you; just look._

_Open your eyes and **see**. _

.

George can’t stand his reflection. He can’t stand the shop or the Burrow, anywhere that Fred ever went. He hates being inside and imagines a grave anytime he’s surrounded by walls.

He hasn’t been to Hogwarts since.

.

Mum’s grief is loud, as is Dad’s. Ginny comforts herself with Harry, and Ron with Hermione. Bill turns to Fleur and Teddy — George thinks they’ll probably adopt Remus and Tonks’ little ‘wolf. Charlie has his dragons, away in the wilds of Romania. Percy almost never leaves Mum’s side.

George is alone for the first time since conception, and he loathes every heartbeat of it.

.

He leaves Britain the first chance he gets, crossing the Channel. He sends an owl only once he’s reached Paris. He’s there for a week before he moves on.

Fred would have loved it.

Everywhere he goes, he searches for a mirror image, for the brother he’s never been without.

A month, two, three — he blinks and a full year is gone. He hasn’t spoken to his family in so long he’s starting to forget their voices.

He drinks Muggle alcohol and stays on Muggle streets. He was finished with magic he moment it killed Fred.

.

Percy finds him on the second anniversary of the day he stopped being a twin. He sits beside George at the bar and doesn’t speak. He leans in, though, resting his shoulder against George’s.

George hasn’t cried in a year-and-a-half. But in that dingy Muggle pub, his brother beside him, George sobs.

Percy gently tugs at George’s arm and George falls towards him. Percy’s taller by a scant inch but George curls in on himself.

“C’mon,” Percy says softly, standing and pulling George with him.

George docily follows.

.

Percy takes him to a Wizarding hotel, leads him upstairs to a room on the second floor, lightly shoves him onto the single bed.

“Sleep,” Percy tells him. George doesn’t want to, but Percy settles beside him, runs his fingers through George’s hair. He hasn’t cut it since, and it’s long past his shoulders.

“Sleep,” Percy repeats. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

George slips under and dreams of Fred.

.

Next morning, Percy doesn’t speak. He leads George into the bathroom and strips them both, shoving him into the shower stall and following.

Briskly Percy scrubs George down; George is too far gone to care. He is docile, completely pliant in his brother’s care. Percy gently washes George’s hair, rubbing at his scalp.

“Mum’s worried about you,” Percy says as he towels George off. “She asks every day if anyone’s heard from you, knows where you are.”

Finally, George speaks. “You here to take me back?”

Percy looks him in the eye. “Do you want to go back?”

George lowers his gaze and shakes his head. “He’s not there, Percy. He’s not anywhere. He left me behind.”

Percy pulls George to him. “I can’t be Fred. I don’t want to take his place. But you shouldn’t be alone, George. So wherever you’re going, let me come with you.”

George pulls back a little, just enough to meet Percy’s eyes. “You really want to? What about your job?”

“Yes, I want this,” Percy answers. “My only job is being a brother.”

George falls forward, letting Percy support his weight. Percy sinks to the floor, cradling his little brother.

.

Percy leads George from the hotel three days after he led him to it. “I was thinking we could visit the Americas,” Percy tells him. “If you want.”

“Fine with me,” George responds.

They use Muggle methods to cross the ocean and George doesn’t look back.

.

_See, little brother? I told you._

_It’ll be alright, Gred. I promise. We’ll be together again, soon enough…_


	4. moonbright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: moonbright  
> Fandom: Harry Potter  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU pre-series  
> Pairings: Remus/Sirius, James/Lily  
> Rating: PG(13)  
> Wordcount: 515  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Harry Potter, Remus/Sirius, Remus _was_ the Potters' secret-keeper

He takes the secret and he runs. He leaves anywhere he's ever been, loses himself on the continent, tries to forget who he was and who he left behind.

The wolf explodes out of him and Remus is gone.

.

A dozen or more moons have risen and faded when the not-wolf noses at the entrance of the den.

The wolf growls; the not-wolf whines.

The not-wolf smells familiar; like _home_ , and _pack_ , and _safe_. The not-wolf crouches down and shoves his head into the den, so the wolf lunges for him, teeth bared.

The not-wolf whines again, going all the way onto his belly, rolling over as much as he can, still in the entrance. Then he backs away, rolling over completely as the wolf slinks out.

The wolf stares down at him. The not-wolf stays still, stays quiet, belly in easy reach and throat bared, and the wolf explores at his leisure, and the scent is so _familiar_. From the before. From the _man_.

The wolf flinches back, and growls, and runs.

The not-wolf chases.

.

The not-wolf stays far enough back that the wolf can ignore him, but never leaves.

Moons rise and fade, and the wolf begins to remember the man. More than the pain, than the fear, than the regret, than the disappointment and despair. He remembers laughter, and play, and loping together in a dark wood, moon high and _pack_ all around him.

The wolf whimpers, and then he howls, and the not-wolf creeps close, whining low and soft, and the wolf – the wolf lets him, lost and confused and frightened. The not-wolf stands beside him, warm and strong, and presses in, rumbling gently.

The wolf is _tired_. He's run as far as he can.

The man says, Sleep.

The wolf collapses into the not-wolf, and cries, Let me.

.

Sirius is there when Remus wakes, both naked and needing baths. "Hullo, Moony," Sirius says, voice rusty and hoarse.

"Padfoot," Remus manages after a moment of effort. "How long – "

"Three years," Sirius tells him, standing and stretching. "It took me three years to find you. I don't know – I left my wand in Gringotts' Munich branch before setting out. I've no idea how long it's been since then."

Remus winces and decides to try standing. Sirius hurries over to help steady him, and Remus waits until he's caught his balance to ask, "What about – "

"Prongs and Lils are safe," Sirius assures him, his arm strong around Remus' back. "So's Harry. Lily was pregnant again when I left." Sirius leans again, resting his forehead on Remus'. "Peter sold us all out, Moony. He thought – I don't even know. Dumbledore burnt himself out killing Vold- _Voldemort_. But he's gone, and we're safe, and we're alive, and you can come home now." He pauses, voice breaking. Remus stares into his eyes, as Sirius murmurs, "Please come home with me."

"I'm tired," Remus says. "Padfoot, I'm so tired."

Sirius nods, wrapping himself around Remus, and he promises, "I'm here now. You can rest, Remus. I'm here, and I've got you."

Remus closes his eyes and _believes_.


	5. where I reign king

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: where I reign king  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton  
> Warnings: AU; implied abuse  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 310  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Harry Potter, Harry, the Dursleys were a lot more abusive than it's implied in the books, and as a result it's a very distrustful Harry that finally arrives at Hogwarts.

He follows the family of redheads to the entrance and goes through. He leaves the trolley with his trunk by the rest of the luggage waiting to be stowed and slips onto the train, looking for an out-of-the-way place to settle. 

And he watches everyone. This is his chance to get away from the Dursleys. He’ll need to study the rules of this society, need to see how it works, but he’ll do whatever it takes. Hagrid was nice but he can’t trust the man – can’t trust anyone but himself. He learned that well.

Hagrid leads them to little boats, says, “No more’n four!” and then greets him with a broad smile. He nods back and chooses a boat with one of the redheads, a girl, and the boy who couldn’t keep track of his toad. The redhead and the girl talk about magic while the other boy tries not to fall out of the boat. 

It’s a big place, this Hogwarts. Hopefully easy to get lost in. There was nowhere to hide at Privet Drive. 

.

The Hat settles onto him with a hum. _This is very interesting_ , the Hat says. _Not quite what they expected, I think. What to do with you?_

_I don’t want to be noticed_ , he says. 

_You’ll be noticed no matter what, my dear boy_ , the Hat says. _But I can place you where you will be underestimated – and where you might get the care you sorely need_. 

The Hat shouts, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

.

Hufflepuff is the House of the hard workers, of loyalty. 

He smiles up at the canopy above his bed. His wand is under the pillow. A stack of etiquette books and history texts is spread out along the side closest to his roommates. 

If he plays this right, he’ll have them all following him. And whatever plans are in place for him – he’ll be ready.


	6. to my arms you are forever lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: to my arms you are forever lost  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Margaret Sayers Peden  
> Warnings: child death, grief, covering it all up  
> Pairings: Petunia/Vernon  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 470  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Harry Potter, any, the world where the Dursleys accidentally killed Harry Potter before he ever had the chance to go to Hogwarts

Petunia's only consolation is that it was an accident. The boy i - _was_ just so quiet, tucked away neatly in the cupboard. With her darling Diddums and Vernon so loud, it was surely an easy thing to miss. 

Weeks passed before she remembered that he'd surely need water, and to eat, too, and she is just thankful, now, that Vernon was already at work and Dudley was napping upstairs, because when she opened the cupboard - 

She wept for Lily's son, she truly did, and then she went for towels to wrap him in, and she closed the cupboard door, went upstairs, and cradled her own son close, waiting for Vernon to come home. 

Petunia told him, “We have to move.” She put Dudley down in his playpen, led Vernon to the cupboard, and opened the door. 

“Oh, Christ,” Vernon said.

.

(In the tumultuous weeks after Voldemort’s defeat, Albus Dumbledore’s attention was required by many people for many reasons. When he finally checked on Harry Potter, it was far too late. 

Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley become Victor, Penelope, and David Smith. Victor is an accountant, Penelope a volunteer at the local librarian, and David a somewhat quiet child. The neighbors don’t ever come to know the family very well, but there is something solemn about the Smith’s. They don’t talk about anything before. 

Albus Dumbledore informs no one that the Potter boy died. He merely claims that the boy is being trained somewhere and turns his attention to Neville Longbottom.)

.

(Magic is an amazing thing, and so is the will to live. But it was dark in the cupboard, and Harry still suffered from the aftereffects of the attack, and he knew they were gone, all the warm people who loved him – in truth, he survived much longer than many others would have, his magic keeping alive even as dehydration sapped away at him. 

Magic is an amazing thing, but he died long before his aunt remembered him.)

.

(When Harry Potter does not owl his acceptance, Minerva checks the list and does not see his name. His name appeared when he was born and would disappear for one reason alone.

“Oh, Merlin,” she breathes, covering her mouth with a hand. “Oh, please no.” 

She bypasses Dumbledore entirely to go to the Dursley house.)

.

(Sirius Black still escapes Azkaban. Voldemort still attains a new body with the help of a few loyal servants. Hogwarts still falls. 

Neville Longbottom faces Voldemort at the cost of both their lives, and Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, too. 

What no one ever learns is where Harry Potter is buried. 

Or, well. Eventually, a pair of muggle schoolchildren playing in the local woods finds it, and it causes quite a stir, but no one in the magical community ever hear of it.)


	7. sorting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: sorting  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: pre-series; slight AU  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 200  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: McGonagall, Minnie gets Sorted

"Don't be nervous," Professor Dumbledore says kindly, eyes twinkling, as he places the Hat on her head. "There's a good girl."

She doesn't glare up at him because Mother told her to always treat teachers with respect, even when they're condescending. But she's not nervous, and she's not a little girl.

 _You are good, though_ , the Hat says, and she is thankful that Mother told her the Hat could speak. Otherwise, she might have startled and Professor Dumbledore would twinkle at her some more.

 _Brave and succinct_ , the Hat continues, _an aptitude for Transfiguration. Turning feathers into kittens at nine! My, you do have potential, Minerva._

 _Thank you_ , she tells it.

 _You have a fine mind and would do well in all of the Houses. In Slytherin, you would be great, and in Ravenclaw._ The Hat pauses.

Mother had been Ravenclaw. Father had been Hufflepuff. She has never really considered what House she might be, even when all her friends did.

 _Where to place you?_ the Hat asks. _Such a quandary. You are fearless, but love learning. You work hard and have such aspirations…_

She says, _I do love cats_.

Professor Dumbledore grins at her when the Hat shouts, "Gryffindor!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the hero of the invisible audience  
> Fandom: Harry Potter  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from James Humphrey  
> Warnings: future!fic  
> Pairings: mentions of het and slash  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 235  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, the child of (any hero) turns out to be perfectly ordinary- and their parent(s) couldn't be prouder  
> Note: In my mind, Albus' husband is Scorpius Malfoy, but it's not stated in the drabble, so feel free to pick someone else if you like.

James Potter spends ten years as the greatest Quidditch player in the world, and then coaches the most successful team for twenty-five more. Lily Potter becomes the youngest dueling champion in history. Their fame equals their father's on their own merits, and James eats it up with glee while Lily handles it gracefully, when she's not jinxing the fans who get too close. James has a girl in every city and Lily invents new curses, which supplements her income quite nicely, and is fun, besides.

James marries in his mid-thirties, to a healer who doesn't put up with his nonsense. Lily never does, but she travels the world teaching anyone who wants to learn. Harry and Ginny had instilled in all their children the knowledge that everyone should be capable of defending themselves. Nobody should wait for others to save them.

James and Lily Potter go down in the history books. Their brother is only ever noted as Harry Potter's middle child. He never does anything extraordinary. He marries his Hogwarts' sweetheart, has two children, teaches transfiguration at Hogwarts (his husband teaches history), and dies of old age, happy and peaceful. His husband dies three days later.

(Once, a reporter asks Harry Potter if he ever wishes his middle child were as exciting as his other two.

Harry just laughs, shaking his head. Al lives the life Harry wishes he could've had, and he couldn't be prouder.)


	9. terrible, yes, but great

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: terrible, yes, but great  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title and summary from Sorcerer’s Stone  
> Warnings: AU; mentions of child abuse  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 200  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Harry Potter, Harry Potter, he gets sorted into Slytherin

Power is something Harry Potter has never had.

.

Hagrid and Ron both talk about Slytherin and Gryffindor, how bad wizards are always one and good wizards the other. 

Harry Potter's parents were in Gryffindor. 

... Harry Potter's parents are dead.

.

Ollivander said _terrible_ , yes, but he also said _great_. 

.

 _Your choice, Harry Potter_ , the Hat murmurs, and an entire hall waits with bated breath.

.

Years of slavery, of hiding his potential, of biting his tongue and clenching his fists, of closing his eyes and bowing his head. 

_Years_. 

Harry Potter doesn’t remember ever being a child. He remembers pain and fear, uncomforted tears, and so much anger he choked on it, time and again and again and again. 

The Boy Who Lived, the hero of all of those books – maybe he was real, once, years ago. Before the Dursleys. Before his only family in the world tried beating out of him magic he didn’t know he had.

Harry Potter’s parents were in Gryffindor. Maybe if they had raised him, so would he be.

.

 _You can become magnificent_ , the Hat promises, before shouting Harry Potter’s choice to the world. 

.

Power is something Harry Potter will never be without again.


	10. lioness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: lioness  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU, character death  
> Pairings: Lily/James  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 333  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Harry Potter. any. One of Harry's parents survived.  
> 

She mistranslated part of the ritual, and a symbolic sacrifice is more than enough, so instead of dying when the green light hits her, Lily shudders and watches as it bounces back onto Voldemort.

Harry is screaming behind her; James is dead downstairs. She hears someone moving around in the house, and she knows that there is too much she doesn't understand, too little she's been told, and she wants to collapse beside James, wants to cry until it doesn't hurt anymore, but instead she turns to hold her son, takes a deep breath, and _thinks_. 

"Lily?!" she hears, and someone running up the stairs, and the only person she can trust is dead. 

The nursery door slams shut in response to her fear and as she hurries to the window, she grabs the wand that is the only evidence Voldemort had attacked. She takes nothing else from the nursery, none of Harry's clothes or toys, and she has no definite plan beyond _hide somewhere no one knows_. 

Harry snuffles against her neck and she can hear Severus banging on the door, can hear someone else shouting now, and she takes a deep breath before jumping out the window. 

"I have no idea what I'm doing, Harry love," she murmurs, casting a glamour and warming charm on them both, and she bites back the tears, bites back the anger, bites back the fear. 

...

On October 31, 1981, the Dark Lord Voldemort vanished. What very few people knew is that so did Lily Potter and her son. 

Severus Snape was still protected by Albus Dumbledore; Sirius Black still went to Azkaban without a trial while Percy Weasley found and adopted a rat. No one knew what happened that night in Godric's Hollow, but a certain headmaster ensured what he wanted known spread, and so people toasted and thanked the Boy-Who-Lived, who was surely secreted away somewhere for his own protection. 

And somewhere in the world, a woman researched ancient and obscure magic, and plotted.


	11. almost... but not quite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: almost… but not quite  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for entire series  
> Pairings: canon and Harry/Draco  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 315  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Harry/Draco, almost lovers

They could have been... very many things.

Maybe in another world, Voldemort took Harry instead of trying to kill him. Maybe there, Harry was raised by the Malfoys and became the Dark Lord's heir. Maybe Draco was his best friend and brother, maybe they became lovers.

And in another world, maybe Harry listened to Draco in the robe shop, or Draco said something different, or Dumbledore noticed how Harry's letter was addressed and sent someone to investigate, or someone had already investigated and gotten Harry to a healthier environment, or Lucius Malfoy followed up on his master's destroyer and took the boy himself, fashioned a dark lord to rule the world.

And in another world, maybe Harry took Draco's hand on the train. Maybe he was a bit more Slytherin, angry and ambitious, wanting to punish a world that never looked out for him. Maybe he flourished and grew and did great (terrible, yes, but great) things. Maybe Draco was his friend, his confidant, his mentor and then right hand as he outstripped Voldemort and Grindelwald, as Harry Potter became the name to fear.

And in another world, maybe Harry offered Draco help in sixth year, maybe Draco accepted. Or maybe after the war, they tried to put the past behind them, to mature beyond schoolyard grudges because they truly had never been enemies, just two boys caught up in a terrible situation, a spot of normalcy amongst the abnormal.

They could have been so many things. But in this world, they went their separate ways. They married and had children, and maybe their children could be something.

(I'm Albus, Albus Potter. My dad told me about your family.

Scorpius Malfoy. Grandmum saved your dad, you know.

So I've heard. Want a chocolate frog?

I suppose. Do you think you'll be in Gryffindor?

Maybe. But Dad said it doesn't matter where I go.

So did mine.)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: power (the dark lord knows not)  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AUish, death/violence, dark  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: 365  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, "He'll kill you, and then he'll go to work on you."

The second worst thing that ever happened in the world was that Harry Potter held all three Deathly Hallows at the same time, and that he walked to his death, knowingly and with acceptance. 

The worst thing was that when given the chance, he returned to life. 

Because when he was young, Harry Potter learned that if he wanted anything done, he needed to do it himself, and because when he was young, Harry Potter learned there was no one he could trust or rely on for anything. Because when he was young, Harry Potter was not given love of any sort, or even much kindness. He was not given gentle touches, or forgiveness. 

Because when he was young, Harry Potter learned that the world was hard and he needed to be harder still to survive, and because Harry Potter learned that he _would_ survive, if only out of spite. 

Seven years of being hated and adored, idolized and feared, in cycles he quickly learned to predict, did not do anything except reinforce what he spent a decade learning. 

An old man declaring the power the Dark Lord knew not to be _love_ , of all the ridiculous things, taught Harry Potter one final lesson that the Headmaster probably did not intend. 

Harry Potter stared down at Voldemort's corpse and then looked out over the survivors of the battle, and his eyes were as green as the gentlest way there was to kill. 

The worst thing that ever happened in the world was that Harry Potter returned to life because men were not designed to hold the power of a god. He did not go mad with the power; he did not remake the world as he willed. 

He had forever, after all. He had time, which he could bend and stretch as he wished, curiosity he had never been able to sate, and patience he learned when he was young. 

Perhaps most would not think it to be the worst thing to ever happen in the world—they are the ones he granted the mercy of dying. 

Because there are worse things than death, and Death's Master had eternity to explore them all.


	13. arise! the morning is at hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: arise! the morning is at hand  
> Fandom: Harry Potter  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Keats.   
> Warnings: pre-series  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 150  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: booksack

What she misses most in those early days is how everything made sense back home. The world followed clear-cut, concrete rules, gravity and motion and all the rest. Very little was whimsical or fantastical—just normal. Utterly and simply normal.

But here, in a place of magic and myth, nothing makes sense. It’s all so bewildering, so scary—why did she want to come here? She should have never left home, with pictures that didn’t move and staircases that stayed where you left them and brooms that had no minds of their own.

But at home there is no adventure. For all the terror, there’s just as much wonder here, and…

Maybe here she can change things. Show them all what a muggleborn from a completely mundane background can do.

Petunia will be so impressed, and maybe Lily can finally be better at something.

So she stays.


	14. where the future becomes present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: where the future becomes present  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Whitman   
> Warnings: AU for whole thing  
> Pairings: maybe a smidge of Tom Riddle/Harry Potter implied  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 250  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Harry Potter, Tom Riddle, if Albus Dumbledore would have given him the DADA job

Professor Riddle is Harry's favorite. Dad and Uncle Sirius had shared all sorts of stories, and even Mum and Uncle Remus had praised his teaching style and the material, and how he made sure even the worst student excelled. Uncle Peter nodded along; he'd done well in Charms and DADA, and had been just behind Dad and the rest in Transfiguration, but he hadn't been at the top of the class like Mum and Uncle Remus.

Uncle Sev, though, was the one who really got Harry excited for Riddle's class. Uncle Sev was actually Riddle's assistant, until he got his Potions Mastery and left Hogwarts, though he still came back for the really big demonstrations.

Riddle was Head of Slytherin, and while Uncle Sirius still complained about that, it really made it neat when Harry was Sorted into his already-favorite teacher's house.

Even the Weasley twins were perfectly behaved in Riddle's class, Harry heard. Riddle was just so _wicked_ , such an awesome teacher, and Draco followed closely behind Harry in top marks. That Ravenclaw Granger grumbled about it in the library, but books and cleverness didn't get you very far in practicals, which is where Harry beat them all. 

By seventh year, Harry sought Riddle's approval over even Uncle Sirius and Dad's, and when he stayed on to be Tom's assistant, no one was surprised.

(Dumbledore's eyes always twinkled at Harry, but they especially twinkled for Tom. 

"I'm glad it worked out, Tom," he said once. 

Tom simply nodded and agreed.)


	15. to the victor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: to the victor   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: darkish, AUish, ignores epilogue  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 375  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Harry Potter, Harry Potter, someday they'll sing about his great deeds

Once, there was a man called Tom Riddle, named for the father he only met once, the day he killed him. 

Tom Riddle renamed himself Voldemort and sought to rule the world. 

He failed. 

.

What does history remember? 

What its writer allows it to. 

.

Once, there was a man called Harry Potter. He was a son of heroes, raised as a servant and whipping boy, and he learned how to survive. 

He was destined to be a hero. Or so he was told, by a conniving old man who wasn't nearly as clever as he believed. 

.

What is the best way to win? 

Make it look like you're trying to lose. 

.

When the dust settles, Harry Potter is alive and Voldemort is not. 

When the blood dries, Harry Potter is alive and Dumbledore is not. 

When the war is over, Harry Potter is alive. 

Well. 

.

Harry Potter is a benevolent victor. He owes his life to Narcissa Malfoy, and the Slytherins are just children, and this is a time of healing, not of punishing. 

With Hermione and Ron, with Neville and Luna, with Draco Malfoy—this is a time of change, the Man Who Lived announces, and with the government in shambles, he is hailed as the shining light. 

. 

Once, there was a boy in the cupboard under the stairs. 

Once, there was a boy who asked for help and was slapped down. 

Once, there was a boy who learned so very much indeed. 

.

Luna is the first to ask. Draco never does. 

.

What does history remember? 

The better question is, what was never even forgotten because no one bothered to remember in the first place. 

.

Once, there was a man called Albus Dumbledore. He is given barely a chapter in _Hogwarts, a History_ because he was, after all, Headmaster. 

Once, there was a man called Tom Riddle. He is given a paragraph in _Dark Wizards of the 20th Century_. 

Harry Potter, though—he is remembered as the Man Who Lived, who led the magical UK back onto a world stage, who (with help from Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy) reformed the government into something equal and open to all. 

The boy from the cupboard, in the end, won. 

.

What does history remember? 

His story.


	16. to taste the sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: to taste the sky  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: future!fic; made up magical processes  
> Pairings: Albus Severus/Scorpius  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 740  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Harry Potter, Albus Severus/Scorpius, flying

It was Al's idea to research how to become animagi; it was in his blood, after all. His father's shape was a well-kept secret, but he whispered it to Cory one night, curled up together beneath the sheets in their dorm, three privacy charms stacked on each other around the bed. 

_Dad's a pit viper_ , he told Cory, peering around carefully to make sure the charms held and none of the other boys could hear.

 _Really?_ Cory asked, adding another silencing charm. 

_Really_ , Al said, nodding. _And my granddad was a stag. So, I have to be able to, right? It's in my blood._

Cory considered all the data, of course, and a minute later, he said, _Let's do it._

.

Their first night as dormmates, Al stopped next to the bed Scorpius Malfoy had claimed, held out a hand, and said, _I’m Al_.

Scorpius had looked at the hand, looked up at Al, and said, _I’m Scorpius_ , shaking his hand. 

_That’s too much of a mouthful_ , Al told him. _D’you mind if I call you Cory, instead?_

 _I… I guess not_ , the newly-named Cory said. 

Al smiled and hopped into the bed next to his. The next day, they walked to breakfast together, chatting about anything and everything, including familial expectations. They both agreed that Ravenclaw would be acceptable for families with histories of Slytherin and Gryffindor. 

James tried to make a fuss, but none of the cousins cared, so Al turned back his conversation with Cory.

.

In fourth year, Al brought up the possibility of becoming animagi. In sixth year, they really set out to do it.

In seventh year, they succeeded, quicker than the Marauders _and_ Dad. 

Al wished he could brag to someone besides Cory.

.

Cory brewed the potion, the final step; Al cast the spell to reveal what their shapes would be.

 _Think the incantation very hard_ , Cory said. _Don’t hesitate, don’t doubt._

 _I know_ , Al told him. 

Al went first. He thought the incantation clearly, repeating it six times, and then drank the potion, keeping his eyes on Cory’s the entire time. 

The world went white, then black, and he was suddenly much shorter. It worked, he thought. It worked! He opened his mouth to tell Cory, and then Cory was above him, saying, _Al? You alive down there?_

He meant to say yes, but some sort of shriek came out instead, and Cory laughed. _You’re an osprey of some kind, remember?_ Cory crouched down and slowly reached out, holding his arm steady at Al’s feet. _C’mon, Al_ , he said. _You may be bird shaped now, but you still need to learn how to fly._  
.  
By early morning, Al had mastered flying. Using his wings was even more exhilarating than being on a broom. He tried casting _lumos_ as a bird and lit up only a small area around him, but since he hadn’t expected anything to happen, he nearly fell out of the air. 

Cory laughed again, the git.

.

Three days later, they were back at the Shrieking Shack, this time for Cory. Al watched, holding his breath, as Cory shifted. He shimmered and shrank and then a gorgeous gyrfalcon was staring up at him.

 _Wow_ , Al said. _You’re silver, Cory. Magnificent._

Cory preened. Al crouched beside him and held out an arm. 

.

Cory’s _lumos_ was a little more powerful than Al’s, but then, he knew ahead of time he could do it.

 _Try to summon a rat!_ Al yelled up at him. 

Five minutes later, a dead rat landed on his head.

.

On Saturday, when they were supposed to be at Hogsmeade, Al and Cory snuck away, shifted into birds, and took to the sky. It was the first time they’d been able to fly during the day, and fly together, since someone had to be the lookout. 

Al couldn’t resist divebombing him, and Cory retaliated, and it was the most fun Al’d ever had.

.

 _Should we register?_ Cory asked one night, wrapped around Al in their bed. (They were both meant to have their own, but they shared anyway, going back and forth. None of their dormmates seemed to mind.)

Al seriously considered it for a moment. Granddad James hadn’t registered. Dad wasn’t registered, even though most of the family knew he could change shape—but only Al and Mum knew what he changed into.

 _No_ , Al decided. 

Cory kissed him and whispered, _Let’s go flying tomorrow._


	17. they share the same blood and the same blows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: they share the same blood and the same blows  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton   
> Warnings: AU during book 5  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 265  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Hidden secrets

"If I were to ask you," Tom Riddle murmurs with a gentle smile, "why you are their hero, what would you answer?" 

_Because you killed my parents_ , Harry thinks, and _because you kill people who don't deserve it, and because you keep trying to kill me_. 

He says none of it. Instead he takes a deep breath, hidden away inside his head, staring up at the man prophesied to be his enemy, and Harry must surely be dreaming — 

"Are you their hero because you believe in it?" Tom Riddle asks. "Or are you their hero because they told you that you are?" 

Once, when he was young, Harry had dreamed of being special. He's since learned it's actually a horrible thing. 

"Are you my enemy, Harry?" Tom Riddle asks. 

Harry opens his mouth but doesn't answer and Tom Riddle nods. "I'll let you think on it," he says, still with that same smile. "When you have decided, you know how to reach me." He inclines his head and backs through a door that surely isn't real— _physical_ , Harry thinks, _is it real if it's not physical?_

He doesn't wake but instead blinks open his eyes, and there's a book in front of him, and Hermione and Ron fussing at each other, and Harry has so much to think about. 

He listens to Hermione, and he listens to Ron, and he listens to the overlapping voices in the common room, and then he wonders the question that will change the course of this muddled society: _What do I know about Voldemort that hasn't been warped by someone else?_


	18. untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Untitled  
> Fandom: Harry Potter  
> Disclaimer: only the narrator is mine  
> Warnings: ignores epilogue   
> Pairing: Draco/Luna  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 245  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Any, any het pairing, a proposal from a third party’s point of view

"Must we?" the man mutters, just barely loud enough for Caroline to hear. She glances up from her book, to where a tall blond man is standing next to a short blonde woman. She blinks because neither of them look... right? She's not sure what's wrong but _something_ is.

"This is where the snorkack will be," the woman says, stepping around the man to look out over the park. Caroline always comes here on her lunch break to clear her head, because even children shrieking is soothing after staring at the computer screen for hours. 

_Snorkack?_ she mouths. The man sighs but follows the woman onto the grass. 

Whatever is going on with them, it doesn't seem dangerous, so Caroline looks back at her book. She's got fifteen minutes left and the duchess just realized the cook is actually her long-lost brother. 

Her phone chimes the five-minute warning and she sighs. She gathers up the trash and looks back towards the field, to see if—yup, there they are. The man is staring down at the woman, mouth open, and Caroline can barely hear him ask, "Are you sure, Luna? You know that— "

And Luna (apparently) rises on her tiptoes to kiss his lips. Her voice carries as she says, "Of course I'm sure, Draco. Now, let's find the snorkack. I'm sure it's around here somewhere." 

Caroline turns away from the man's awed, fond smile, feeling just a little happier, for some reason.


	19. butterflies bleeding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: butterflies bleeding  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: post-Deathly Hallows, AU  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 235  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, "Screw the timeline, I wanna go kill butterflies."

The thing about becoming the Master of Death is that it is unprecedented in all the ages of existence, and had Death foreseen anyone actually being able to do so, would not have played that game with those foolish brothers.

Ah, well. What is done is done.

Humans are not designed to house the power of such a thing as Death; the being once known as Harry Potter was burned out in a matter of days. What remained could not be called human. 

Death finds it amusing as an intellectual curiosity; Death's Master... 

What remains of a human when all is burned away? Merely the base components—curiosity, anger, greed. Death's Master remembers being human but none of the emotional connections remain. Harry Potter dies and would be horrified by what remains when he is gone. 

"All of eternity at my grasp," the Master of Death muses, watching what had been his world of origin from a higher plane. He turns to Death. "I once heard about stepping on butterflies. I wanna see what that does to my original timeline. Answer honestly: will that affect me in any way?" 

"No, Master," Death replies. "You exist. Nothing will change that outcome." 

"Good," Death's Master says. "Let's have some fun." He grins, eyes as green as the curse that set all this into motion, and had Death the capacity to regret, Death very well might.


	20. needle and ink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: needle and ink  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: non-epilogue compliant  
> Pairings: Draco/Hermione  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 135  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Hermione/Draco, marriage tattoos (Draco's POV)

He cannot stand seeing his forearm. The blemish. That mad bastard's brand eternally seared into his skin.

The Dark Mark is impossible to remove. No matter what he tries, magically or otherwise, it remains, proof his failures and his faults, of his weakness. 

"Draco," Hermione tells him one day, not too long after their marriage, "I have an idea." She links their fingers, brushing her other hand along the Mark. He flinches away; she should not have to look upon it, much less touch it.

"Tattoos," she whispers into his ear. "Matching. To cover up _his_ hatred with our love."

He's tried everything else, so why not?

When it works, just plain old muggle needle-and-ink, Draco takes her to bed and worships her body in a way he's never worshiped anyone else.


	21. ever after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: ever after   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: ignores epilogue; future!fic; references to canon child endangerment and abuse  
> Pairings: Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 235  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, 'accidental garden manpain'

She thinks, sometimes, that she wouldn't mind lighting the extended Longbottom family on fire. Neville is perhaps the best person she's ever met, and he's still so uncertain, so sure that he isn't good enough, will never be good enough—for her, for Hogwarts, for himself. 

Neville, who stood before Voldemort and killed Nagini, who kept the students as safe as he could. 

Truly, if she could just perfect the Time-Travel Potion, she would go back and slaughter them all for what they've done to her Nev. 

She finds him in the garden, of course, murmuring a story to the Chokevine he insists doesn't have a crush on him. "Will they bloom tonight?" she asks, as she does every time. 

"At dusk," he answers, as always, fingers tracing the plant invisible even to her until the sun begins to set. He's so gifted, but even now, twenty years since they were students, the best-beloved Head of Gryffindor Hogwarts has ever had—

"You, my love, are the best man I've ever known," she says. 

"Even when you perfect that potion," he says, "I won't let you go back and change things." 

She nods, because she truly understands the dangers of time travel. If she punishes the lot of them, what will happen to the man she loves? He'll never be. 

"Can threstrals eat Chokevines?" she asks after a moment, leaning into Neville's strong chest. 

He sighs.


	22. the opposite of indifference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the opposite of indifference   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: AU during Deathly Hallows, implied child abuse of every kind  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG/13  
> Wordcount: 375  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Voldemort, obsession is far more powerful than mere love

_A mother's love_ , the old man said, as if that would mean anything to a boy who can't remember it. 

There was another little boy, once, who never knew what it was, either. A little boy who never loved anything in his entire life, but who _craved_ the surety of knowing nothing could ever hurt him again, could ever shove him to his knees and _take_ , who would could never own him again. 

_What is love?_ a green-eyed boy wonders, watching his aunt screech her adoration for her spoiled son and monstrous husband, watching the Weasleys tease and poke each other, watching Malfoy's mother barely brush against his father, watching how they both watch their son. _What is love?_

He doesn't understand, is quite certain he never will, but he craves the certainty that no one will ever have power over him again—not like his uncle, not like the old man who shouldn't have had power over him anyway, not prefects and cruel teachers, not a government that has made it quite clear his personal well-being was never a priority. 

_What is love?_ a green-eyed boy wonders, because he's sure no one has felt it for him since his parents died. His father's friends see only his father when they look at him; his mother's friends (as he learns later) see his father, too. Perhaps his own friends, if he could ever bring himself to trust it— 

But trust is something he never learned, either. 

_What is love?_ a red-eyed man wonders, watching a green-eyed boy walk towards him. The same blood is in their veins, now, the same gift on their tongues. There is something familiar about the boy, he thinks, and so he makes an offer one final time. 

_A mother's love_ matters little, when the child never felt it again. 

The _power the dark lord knows not_ is unimportant, too, when _the one with the power to vanquish the dark lord_ will never use it. 

_What is love?_ the dark lords wonder. In the end, it doesn't matter. They will never love each other, will barely trust each other—but they crave the same thing, and so long as they stand together, nothing else is powerful enough to threaten them.


	23. charcoal and innocence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: charcoal and innocence   
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: none  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 102  
> Point of view: third   
> prompt: Harry/Draco, secret meetings before sides are chosen

"You know, you're actually not half bad for a mudblood," Draco says, trying to loom over Harry's shoulder.

"My father was a pureblood, not that it matters," Harry tells him without looking up. "Move, please—you're blocking the light." 

Draco steps to the side, coming around the chair. "You're in my spot," he says. 

Harry still doesn't look up. "You should get here sooner, then." 

Grinning, Draco pulls out his own sketchbook and settles down to draw. 

(Years later, after everything, they'll still meet sometimes, somewhere secret and away from it all, to exchange sketches of how the world used to be.)


	24. if the world picked daises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: If the world picked daises  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton  
> Warnings: AU, character death  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 300  
> Point of view: third   
> Harry Potter, Luna+/Neville, they're the only ones to survive

Hogwarts falls in winter and Luna sees it before it happens—perhaps the nargles warned her, or the crumple-horned snorkacks, or even Mum, from the Spirit World, sending word to her daughter. It doesn't matter. 

Luna has scant minutes, which isn't enough to get anything done but she sends her patronus to the Headmaster, another to each of the Heads of House, and then calls her favorite of the elves. 

She's only a fifth-year but she survived the Department of Mysteries, so she puts all of her conviction into the words as she tells Lolly, “Begin evacuating the students. They’re almost here.” 

Lolly blinks up at her with frightened eyes, but the elves have trusted Luna since her first evening in Hogwarts. It’s one of the things Luna has never questioned. 

It won’t be enough, not for what’s coming, but at least some will live. 

.

As the walls shake and ancient stone crumbles, ancient runes shattering, Luna tries to find her friends. She protects younger-years where she can, feeling relief as elves keep popping in to grab them, until Death Eaters begin targeting elves. 

There are many things Luna knows. Her parents did not discriminate between Light, Grey, and Dark, and taught her from tomes of all three. She is no match for a fully-grown wizard intent on killing but she does not fight head-on—she strikes from the shadows, and she keeps moving through Hogwarts, seeking Ginny and Harry, seeking Neville and Hermione and Ron. 

What she finds—oh, what she finds. 

.

Hermione fell first, defending a group of Slytherin first-years, then Ron in a mad rush of rage, and then Harry to Voldemort. She never does find Ginny, or learn what happened to her. 

Neville is barely alive, and Luna curls around him, and Lolly finally brings them out, sobbing.


	25. Ask me to help you find the wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Ask me to help you find the wind  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anderson   
> Warnings: child abuse, AU, victim blaming by the victim  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 410  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Harry Potter, Dudley + Harry, they grew up as best friends, with Dudley trying to help Harry everytime his parents were abusive of him.

When the letter comes, Harry hands it off to Dudley; his parents don't notice, so later that afternoon, they hide in Dudley's room to read it together. 

"Could it possibly be real?" Harry asks hesitantly.

"I think it might be," Dudley says. "All the... odd things, you know." 

"I suppose," Harry replies dubiously. But there _are_ a lot of odd things. 

They have no owl to send back a letter, so they put it aside for now.

.

Three days later, a witch knocks on the door. Aunt Petunia nearly faints, and Uncle Vernon scowls fiercely, but Dudley politely invites her in. 

After her explanation, Harry says, "It does sound wonderful, ma'am, but I can't leave without Dudley."

Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, blinks at him. "Beg pardon?" 

“He’s my brother, you see,” Harry says, licking nervously at his lips while glancing towards the door. His relatives had left him alone with the professor, dragging Dudley with them. “I can’t leave him alone here. Without me around, they might turn on him.”

“Mr. Potter,” she says severely. “Do you mean to tell me that your relatives are… are _harming_ you?” 

He hesitates, glancing again at the door. He doesn’t want to say—it’s always his fault, anyway—but without him, Dudley might be in danger. “Yes,” he whispers. 

Her eyes flash. 

.

Hedwig brings letters between them daily, as Harry writes down everything about Hogwarts while Dudley shares all the details about their new family. He doesn’t have enough magic for Hogwarts, but there _is_ a tiny spark there, enough to see the creatures. As best the healer could determine, the one Professor McGonagall dragged them both to that first day, Dudley’s potential had been there since birth (of course) but only Harry’s magic in close proximity had let it grow enough to actually matter.

Harry is Sorted into Hufflepuff, makes friends with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot, and doesn’t like Professor Snape all that much, but since the healer fixed Harry’s eyesight and Harry’s not in Gryffindor, Professor Snape never goes into tirades about the father Harry can’t remember and never knew. 

Sometimes, the headmaster watches Harry; Harry pays it no nevermind. 

Over the holiday, Harry goes home to his brother and foster family: the Diggorys. They have another son, a fourth year Hufflepuff who helped Harry navigate Hogwarts in the beginning. 

“It’s been amazing, Harry,” Dudley says, pouncing on him at the station. 

“Yes, it has,” Harry agrees.


End file.
